


iRemain

by shalinabianca



Series: One-Shots [5]
Category: iCarly
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blind Character, Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 11:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17181758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalinabianca/pseuds/shalinabianca
Summary: Sam and Freddie reconnect in their college years. When an incident turns Sam's world dark, she must learn to remain on her feet. (A Seddie Two-Shot requested by a friend. Cross-posted on FF, Quotev, Wattpad)





	1. Burn Me with Fire

**Author's Note:**

> “In a cold night, there will be no fair fight  
> There will be no good night, to turn and walk away  
> So burn me with fire, drown me with rain  
> I'm gonna wake up screaming your name”  
> \- Christina Aguilera

It was raining out. It would be raining on most days, but today it felt… sad. Desolate, even. The skies were dark. The walkways were dark. His future looked pretty dark, too. The professors at Cornish had just been getting on everyone’s last nerves during this finals week. He couldn’t catch a break. But it was the end of the semester, and he was halfway through his third year in college. He was almost free. Freddie Benson merely kept his gaze straight ahead as the heavy rain drops pelted his clothes. Under his breath, he cursed both the Seattle weather and the useless umbrella in his hand.

The stop light turned yellow, then red. A bright red hand stared Freddie in the face. He was a few blocks from Bushwell Plaza, the place he’s called home for many years. Freddie still lived with his mom, Marissa, who has thankfully toned down her helicopter parenting once he enrolled into Cornish College (albeit she kind of coerced him into staying close by, as she would say, “for his own safety”). It was on days like these, however, when the hem of his corduroy jeans and his socks were soaking wet, that he appreciated living with his mom. The reason being: she always had warm, freshly laundered clothes ready for him to change into. He always felt--

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!”

Freezing cold. Freddie huffed out an exasperated sigh, frustration growing in his chest. He was completely soaked from head to toe, no thanks to some asshole cab driver that sped past him. Water dripped from his brow and even more came down his pant leg. Freddie hoped that his notebooks and laptop were relatively safe in his backpack, but he wasn’t too sure. And as if his day needed to be any worse, his shoes squeaked obnoxiously with every step he took. Freddie walked the rest of the way home with his jeans riding into his ass and his chest constricting from the cold.

Lukewarm air greeted him when he entered the building. He barely glanced at the doorman when he got to the lobby, shaking out his umbrella and leaving it near the door. Lewbert all but screamed at Freddie once he noticed him, complaining that he had just mopped the lobby, to which the brunet replied without pause, “Just eat your damn fish loaf!” and stormed off into the main elevator. Once there, he half-punched the eighth-floor button, and stood brooding while the cheerful elevator music played around him.

When the doors slid open, Freddie heard loud pounding on a door and a distinctly familiar voice screaming at it. “Spencer!” A kick. “Open the door, you lanky giraffe!” A little scared for his life but also a little more curious, Freddie quietly peeked his head around the corner. In front of Apartment 8-C was someone he hadn’t seen in quite some time--Samantha Puckett. The same Sam Puckett that drove off to Los Angeles in her motorcycle almost three years ago and never looked back.

Freddie rounded the bend, brows furrowed together as he stepped forward. “Wait-- _Sam_?” He took a step back when she jumped in surprise, seeming ready to defend herself.

“Freddie… um, hey,” Sam muttered lamely, getting to her feet. He noted the slightly pained expression on her face. Stumbling through her words a bit, she asked, “What-what are you doing here?”

“See, the better question is what the hell are you doing here?” Freddie was most definitely still soaking wet, but his discomfort was the last thing on his mind. “Last I saw you, you were still in California doing your thing with Cat and the arts school.”

“Yeah, and you and Robbie went to the hospital. Fun times.” Sam deflected, “I’ve been back a while, had some trouble with some stuff, but--”

“What? For how long? Is this revenge for me not calling you when I first went to L.A., because--?”

“Enough with the Q’s, douche-nozzle.” Sam looked him up and down, with an amused look on her face. A corner of her lip turned up in a smirk. “You do know it’s wet outside, right?”

Freddie gave her a once-over just the same. Her hoodie and jeans were soaked, like she walked through the rain to get here. The water stains were almost dark enough to cover the drops of blood on her front. Alarmed, Freddie took the couple strides to Sam, brushing back her damp blonde hair and surveying her injuries. In a voice just above a whisper, he muttered, “You’re hurt.”

“I, uh, ran into a door.”

“I’ve never seen a door give someone a black eye or a bloody nose.”

Sam paused. “Repeatedly.”

Freddie brushed the pad of his thumb across her slightly swollen cheekbone. When she flinched away from him, both of his arms fell to his sides. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he turned to unlock his apartment door. He rummaged in his backpack, feeling around for the set of keys. Freddie paused after he swung the door open, but kept his back to Sam.

Cautiously, he offered, “Why don’t you come in? I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, no. I’ll just wait for Spencer to come back,” Sam returned, leaning against the opposite wall. “Actually, do you know if he changed the lock? My key doesn’t work anymore.”

Freddie pivoted on his heel, meeting eyes with Sam. “Spencer moved out over a year ago. Followed Carly and their dad to Italy after he settled some things here, you know.”

Sam blinked back at him, speechless. Without a word, she pushed past him and into his apartment. Freddie shut the door behind him, shrugged off his backpack and damp sweater before tossing them both over the back of a chair. Sam tenderly took a seat on the couch, asking in a mocking tone, “Is your Mother Dearest home?”

Freddie chuckled. “No, she’s out doing some hot yoga or something.”

“Hot yoga? That’s hot.”

He nodded slowly, avoiding her gaze. It felt like he looked at everything in the room, except for her. “I’m--I’m gonna go get changed. You just… chill right there?” Freddie gave Sam finger guns as he backed into his room. Once the door closed, he face-palmed, shaking his head. “ _Idiot_.”

 _What in fresh hell was that?_ Freddie thought to himself. He tried preparing what he would say to Sam as he hopped around his room, peeling away the corduroys that clung to his skin. _Hey, glad you’re back. I’m not mad that you ghosted me after our date in L.A. two years ago, but I still kind of love you._ No, no. He can’t say anything remotely close to that. It’s pathetic.

Freddie threw on a long-sleeved shirt and khaki pants before grabbing one of his old shirts and sweats for Sam. When he came out, she was back on her feet, looking at the numerous pictures framed up on their wall. Most of them were of Freddie and his mom, but there was a small corner that he had made his own. It was full of photos with the whole gang: him, Sam, Carly, Gibby, Spencer. The good old days.

“Hey.” Freddie reached out with the clean clothes. “Bathroom’s just around the corner. I’ll get you something for that eye.”

Sam turned to him and produced a rare, genuine smile. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. “Thanks, Freddie.”

He nodded. As he watched Sam walk away, Freddie felt an old emotion bubble up in the pit of his stomach. The same feeling he used to get every time they kissed, every time his name would slip between her lips. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, making a beeline to the kitchen.

There were only a few things stored in their double-door freezer/refrigerator. A tub of half-eaten frozen yogurt. A box of steak medallions. A few bags of frozen vegetables. Two packages of turkey bacon. On the shelving unit rested two ice packs; Freddie took one. In a drawer beside him, he reached for a dish towel and wrapped it around the pack.

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his stupor. “Hey, do you have any food? Mama’s feeling peckish.”

“I can toss on some bacon,” Freddie remarked, walking around the counter and towards Sam on the couch.

She turned her head up when he raised the ice pack, but he reached for her chin, making sure that they were both at eye level. Sighing, Sam asked, “Ehh, is it Canadian bacon?”

“Sam, that’s literally just ham.”

“So I take it as a ‘no’.”

There was a silence that blanketed them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was familiar, comfortable. Freddie pressed the wrapped ice pack over her injured eye, and Sam let him. He swallowed a lump in his throat, forcing out a question that has long been on his mind: “What happened?”

Sam avoided looking at him; her eyes fell to her lap. “Same old mom, same old problems…”

Freddie all but chastised her, sighing out, “Sam.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She waved him off, taking the ice pack and inching away from him. “Look, this hasn’t been the worst of it… I just need to figure out where to live now, y’know…” Sam seemed small, hunched over as she were. Freddie couldn’t quite wrap his mind around how anyone could hurt the person he once loved--and still loved--enough to change her demeanor. Sam Puckett is the strongest person he knows, and right now, she seemed utterly defeated.

Freddie angled himself towards Sam, his eyes meetings hers. “Sammy, whatever you may have done doesn’t give your mom the right to abuse you like this.”

“But you don’t know… I was--”

“No. Fuck that.” He leaned into the couch cushion, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. Freddie said matter-of-factly, “If I wasn’t afraid of your mom, I would give her a piece of my mind.”

Sam stifled a laugh, making an attempt (and promptly failing) at hiding her smirk. “She would cream you, Benson.”

“Better me than you, Puckett.” Another silence. When Freddie looked up again, he caught Sam staring at him with an indescribable expression on her face. “What? I still care.”

“I know.” She grabbed Freddie’s hand and intertwined their fingers together.

Her hands were warm compared to his old ones, and they filled the spaces between their fingers like their hands were meant to hold onto one another. And maybe they were.

Sam tucked herself under Freddie’s arm, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her face. She fell asleep so fast that he wondered how long it had been since she was able to get a restful night’s sleep. He brushed strands of blonde hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear.

By the time Freddie’s mom had come home, he had carried Sam into his room to rest. When she found out that Sam was in her residence space, it was safe to say that she was not happy.

Marissa set down her plastic grocery bags on the kitchen counter, a frown deeply tugging at the corner of her lips. “Fredward Benson, you know how I feel about having people over at the apartment without my knowledge!”

“But Mom, it’s Sam. Plus, she was _hurt_. I couldn’t just leave her.”

“Yes, you could have. And you should have, actually. I don’t like her. She was never a good influence on you--”

“Mom!”

“I want her out of here as soon as--”

The front door slammed shut. Freddie sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. “Thanks, Mom. Really.” He grabbed a dry jacket before heading outside after Sam. When he turned the corner, he saw the elevator doors close. He began pressing the down button, but the lift was already on its descent.

Freddie slammed through the door to the staircase, and he started hustling down the eight fleights as fast as he could. He sprinted through the lobby and out the apartment buildings’ doors. The brunet spotted the blonde walking the down the sidewalk. “Sam!” he called out, squinting through the now heavy rain. “Sam, come back inside! She didn’t mean it!”

“It sure sounded like it!” Sam yelled back, not turning towards him.

“Sam, c’mon. It’s raining and you’re hurt.” Freddie watched Sam raise her left hand to her face, and he took the chance to get in front of her. “Sam--”

“Freddie?” Sam looked straight at him, but her eyes didn’t seem to focus on him. They seemed far away. She blinked a few times, rubbed at her eyes, and then she fumbled to reach out to him. “Freddie, I-I can’t…”

Sam’s eyes fluttered closed as she began to teeter backwards. Freddie reacted quickly, catching her before she hit the wet ground. His heart pounded hard against his chest. “Sam? Sam, wake up. Sam!”


	2. Drown Me with Rain

Sam Puckett was never the best person on earth, but she wasn’t necessarily the worst either. She passed most of her classes with high C’s in school, she was a good best friend to Carly, and she was a genuinely okay person to be around. She just couldn’t wrap her head around why the powers that be had her wake up to absolute darkness.

Losing one of her senses was jarring, more so than losing a physical fight. Freddie was with her during the testing that the doctors put her through; all the scans and lights in the eyes. They called it amaurosis fugax, or just a fancy shmancy way of saying temporary loss of vision.

In her case, the injuries sustained from her mother and the additional migraine caused from Mrs. Benson’s yelling had aggravated the condition. Her doctors weren’t sure when she would regain her vision, because most people were afflicted for no more than a few minutes.

For Sam, it has been a little over three weeks. And in those weeks, the Bensons had been willing to take her in. Or, at least, Freddie did.

Losing her sight made Sam appreciative of the little things. Like the savory taste of a well-cooked piece of bacon. Or like the raspy sound of Freddie’s voice when she would wake up next to him. Or the feeling of her fingers carding through his short-cropped hair whenever they would kiss.

“I never thanked you for helping me,” Sam had said one morning. She was laying in the crook of Freddie’s arm as they sprawled out on his mattress. “I wouldn’t have wanted to help me.”

“Shut up, don’t say that.”

“It’s true! I know your mom must think I’m a burden--”

“She doesn’t.”

“--fine, but I feel like it.”

Freddie sighed a long sigh, and Sam heard the sound of his phone screen locking. “What do you say we get out of this apartment?”

“And do what? Go sightseeing around Seattle?” Sam snorted. “Wrong person to ask, buddy.”

“Okay, compromise: Let’s go to Pike. You’d also be able to enjoy the food _and_ the atmosphere.” He was hopeful, optimistic. The feeling sort of oozed into Sam’s soul.

Sam retorted, “How do you expect me to navigate through the crowds?”

“I’ll be your eyes,” Freddie responded, his voice sending a shiver down Sam’s spine. “Oh, but speaking about eyes…” He leaned off of the bed, reaching for something. The bed shifted under them when he leaned back. “Hold your hands out.”

Sam did just that. A light, spherical object was placed into her hands. As big as a balloon, like a paper mache ball. “What is this?”

Freddie sounded sheepish as he said, “It’s a pig. I, uh, made it from paper mache. Painted it like the green Angry Bird pigs.” Something in the shape of a pen or marker was placed into Sam’s hands. “I didn’t color in the eyes. I figured we could do one now, and then when you get your eyesight back, we can finish the other.”

Sam felt a sort of warmth build up in her chest, but she didn’t show exactly how much she appreciated the gift. “You’re too optimistic for your own good.”

“No, I would say I’m pretty realistic. Perhaps just -istic.” Freddie helped her place the marker at the correct place on the mache pig, and she swirled the marker around to--hopefully--fill the eye.

Freddie took the pig and marker from her, then cleared his throat. “You did pretty good with coloring in the lines for a blind person.”

“Don’t patronize me.” She raised a hand to his face, felt around for his cheek with her fingertips, and then gave him a light slap. They shared a small laugh.

Sam shifted on the bed, sitting on her knees. Both of her hands cupped Freddie’s face, and she traced the contours of his features with her featherlight touches. As she went, she tried picturing his face in her mind. The edge of his jawline, his full lips, the strong bridge of his nose, the shape of his eyes, the arch of his eyebrows.

Sam thought to herself, _God, you have no idea how much I love you._

Sam didn’t need to be sighted to know that her face had flushed a dark red. Did she really just say that? Like, out loud? She really just said that. Holy shit, she hasn’t said that since--

“I love you too.”

It wasn’t long before his breath mingled with hers, and their lips brushed against each other. It was like the last few years hadn’t been spent states away, and they hadn’t grown apart. Freddie’s lips were just as she would always remember; soft, demanding, addicting.

Both of his hands slid up her thighs and to her hips, pulling her closer to him. Sam started combing her fingers through his hair, pulling at the nape of his neck. When he moaned into her mouth, she knew that they wouldn’t make it to Pike Place that day.

________________

Sam and Freddie were walking around Downtown Seattle the following evening; it was a great night out, and Sam wanted to stretch her legs a bit more after spending a couple hours reacquainting with one another the previous day. They decided to make the short trip to downtown, just past Pike Place Market, where all the shops were. Freddie had Sam on his arm, and she had one of her thin canes in the other hand.

She could hear the vehicles pass by them as they walked down the moderately busy sidewalk. Sam was content. For the first time in a long time, she was actually happy. Maybe her sight would come back, or maybe it won’t. But Freddie would be with her every step of the way, and that was all that mattered to her.

“Okay, I wanna know,” Freddie said to her after they finished their discussion over their favorite foods in the pig category.

“Whatchu wanna know?” Sam responded casually, a small smile lingering on her lips.

“When you first started to like me.”

She could hear the smirk starting to grow on his. Sam laughed sheepishly. “Okay, remember the time I pushed you in front of that bike messenger and he knocked you down and hit your head on that fire hydrant?”

“Uh, briefly, yes.”

“Well afterwards, when you were laying there, moaning…” She held back a girlish giggle, just thinking back on the memory. “...and blood coming outta your ear…”

“Yeah..?”

“I dunno, you looked… kinda cute.”

“Aww. Then it was worth the hearing loss.”

Sam leaned into him, shaking her head. “Being with you again was worth the loss of sight, too.”

They walked a few more paces before Freddie slowed them to a stop. “Sam, just stay here for a couple minutes. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Well, hurry up before I decide to run a marathon.”

When his hand left her arm, she immediately felt a chill. It was like Freddie had taken all the warmth of the world with him. Sam stood in the same spot for a few heartbeats before she started to see blurry spots of light in the darkness. Her hand gripping the cane tightened around it. The more Sam blinked, the more her eyes began to adjust to the nightlife around her.

She began to clearly see the passerby around her, the occasional car that would pass by her on the street. The lights from the shop windows and signs caught her eye. Happy tears started to pool in her eyes, and a sort of hysterical laugh came from her.

“Sam?”

She looked forward to see a sharply dressed Freddie Benson standing across the street. The first thing she noticed was the slightly confused expression on his face, and then she waved at him. A huge grin split down his face. Sam could have sworn that she had never loved somebody like he loved Fredward Benson.

He raised his right arm, showing her a plush pig in his hand. “Merry Christmas, Sam!”

Their eyes stayed locked on one another. They were both on Cloud Nine, grinning mad like children. Sam supposed Christmas miracle cliches weren’t all bad. But the only thing that stood in their way was the width of this stupid road.

Sam watched as Freddie took two steps into the road, an ignorant smile on his face. Sam watched as a car horn sounded, stealing Freddie’s attention.

Sam watched as Freddie disappeared from sight.


End file.
